Playing Dirty
by RainThestral93
Summary: When Hermione's boyfriend Ronald Weasley decides that the best solution to a couples' disagreement is to "play away from home"; the last thing he's expecting is for Hermione to arrive home from a conference early. With the foundations of their eight-year relationship crumbling away, Hermione Granger knows there's only one way to get back at Ron. And that involves playing dirty.
1. Restless

**Summary:**When Hermione's boyfriend Ronald Weasley decides that the best solution to a couples' disagreement is to "play away from home"; the last thing he's expecting is for Hermione to arrive home from a conference early. With the foundations of their eight-year relationship crumbling away, Hermione Granger knows there's only one way to get back at Ron. And that involves playing dirty.  
**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately I am not the amazing JK Rowling, therefore everything but the plot belongs to her *sighs*  
**A/N:**I'd love some reviews, hint hint - Beth :) xx

* * *

**Once a Cheat, Always a Cheat**

Ron Weasley was, by anyone's analysis, a very lucky man. His choice to befriend Harry Potter that first day on the train ride to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had been the wisest move the redhead had made; for twenty-six year old Ronald Weasley was now extremely popular with just about everybody that wasn't a bitter ex-Death Eater. He had a loving, supportive family, who had wholly backed him in his choice to become an Auror. He had a decent figure, thanks to years of playing Quidditch and an impressive set of abs. He had a loving, caring girlfriend, also a war hero, who went by the name of Hermione Jean Granger.

But Ronald Weasley was by no means content– it was to be expected when you were one of seven children; you were never happy with your lot; the hand of cards you were dealt. Ronald Weasley loved Harry Potter – his best friend – with every fibre of his being; and yet he couldn't help but being extremely jealous of him. He couldn't help but feel constantly irked by his siblings, smothered by his mother, who kept asking when he was going to "pop the question" to his girlfriend of eight years. But most of all, Ronald Weasley wasn't in the least bit happy with the way his love life had been going.

Ronald Weasley loved Hermione to pieces; he was her best friend, and she was his. That fact had always been true; she was beautiful, caring, loving, but her least endearing feature meant that she was also extremely stubborn. When Hermione made her mind up about something, she made her mind up – and you were a miracle worker if you could manage to make her budge. The problem, for Ron, was that Hermione Granger was a firm believer in the concept, "no sex before marriage" – a concept, which Ron (as much as he loved her) was struggling to deal with.

Everything within his power had been done to convince the Gryffindor bookworm otherwise – but Hermione was remaining steadfast in her position, and Ron had resigned himself to wallowing in self-pity. Full of fear that Hermione would leave him, if he tried to push his girlfriend any further, Ronald Weasley did the worst thing that a man seeking sexual release can do.

He cheated on her.

* * *

Hermione had made work of her school campaign "S.P.E.W." and was now head of an International Corporation that dealt with the treatment of House Elves and Their Rights; and she had a hefty salary to accompany it – a salary which she took great delight in sharing with her boyfriend whom she loved oh-so-very-much without so much as a second's thought. She really was quite generous; just not in the way that Ronald Weasley wanted her to be.

It was because of her high up position, that Hermione was often called to conferences on the other side of the country, the planet even! – leaving Ron on his own for a few days to fend for himself. The day she told Ron she would be in Ireland for a week or so, Ron was positively beside himself with excitement. He'd pretended to be upset, told Hermione that he would "miss her millions" and that he'd cook her a nice meal to come back to. With a chaste kiss on the lips, she'd apparated on the spot, telling him, "I love you", for what would be the last time ever.

She had barely been gone for an hour, when Ron (who had been pacing the flat that the duo shared) snatched up a parchment and a quill. He couldn't stand it any longer, he thought bitterly to himself, and he found himself writing words that he never thought he'd write.

_Dear Lavendar,__  
__  
__ I miss you. I k__now it's been a while, but I was wondering if we could talk?__  
__  
__ Hermione's out of town for a few days.__  
__  
__ Ron__  
_  
It was abrupt, succinct, but it got his message across. If Ron knew Lavendar Brown at all, then it would barely take her any time at all to respond. How right he would be…


	2. Unexpected

**Unexpected**

Hermione Granger climbed the stairs of her modest house that she and Ron had bought a few months into their relationship. Things were going well, she smiled pleasantly to herself amongst her thoughts, and it seemed that their relationship was built on firm foundations. But there was one thing Hermione Granger had learnt in all her life – and that was that "appearances can be deceiving" – she'd never have known that their greasy haired Potions master had been protecting Harry all along, or that Percy Weasley wasn't such a stick-up the arse as she'd initially thought. It was just a bit of a shame that she didn't think to apply that concept to her own relationship, and her up and coming wedding.

Swinging the door open to her bedroom, having left her briefcase behind, time itself stood still. For straddling her fiancé – who wore the white gold band on his finger as a sign of his love for her – was none other than Lavendar Brown, who was gasping as the redhead did things to her that she didn't even want to think about. Struggling to keep the tears from coursing down her cheeks, or gouging the eyeballs of her cheating scum of a fiancé out, she ripped off her own wedding band and hurled in at Ron with such force that he looked up to find the source of his attacker, mid-session.

When his eyes fell on Hermione's they darkened, and a distinct look of panic crossed his features. "'Mione?" He shoved Lavendar roughly to the side, a small smirk beginning to play on the other girl's features. "Wait Hermione!" He exclaimed as the brunette made to run out of the room. She hurried down the stairs, taking them two at a time as a steady trickle of saltwater began to flow.

"It's not what it looks like!" Ron called desperately after, and she whirled on her heels to face him confrontationally.

"Oh really," she snarled, "Because it looked to me like you were doing a pretty God damn good job of fucking the living daylights out of Lavendar Brown."

Ron ran his hand through his read hair, looking suitably embarrassed for the predicament he had found himself caught in, "Well yeah," he admitted sheepishly, "I know it looks like that, but she came onto me, I swear it," he tried to justify himself.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Spare me your bullshit, Ron, we're done. Goodbye."

"Wait Hermione," he cried out, desperately clutching at her robes before she escaped his grip and dissaparated.

"Ronniekins?" A sultry voice called from upstairs, and shaking his head, Ron returned to his bedroom, hoping to put thoughts of Hermione leaving him out of his mind. Who knows, she'd probably come crawling back. It wasn't like she was going to get any elsewhere, anyway, he thought crudely to himself.

* * *

Wandering the streets of Diagon Alley, Hermione Granger was distraught. The house was in Ron's name – they hadn't thought of this scenario, and she couldn't be done with taking Ron to Wizarding court. She may hate Ron – but she certainly didn't hate his family, and doing thus would cause them too much shame. She perused the shop windows until she reached the end of the street, where a stark white sheet of parchment had emblazoned on it:

_**Flatmate Wanted: **__Young bachelor aged 21 seeking flatmate to share 3 bedroomed apartment with. Male/Female for more details OWL 27 Westbury Avenue, London.__  
__  
_There was nothing but the stark black script scrawled carefully across the page, and the idea alone was entertaining. Moving into a flat with someone she didn't know, and avoiding Ron at all cost (for Ron never ventured into Muggle London) seemed highly appealing. She ripped a sheet of parchment from a pad and scrawled a response.

_Dear Sir,__  
__  
__ I would like to enquire whether the position of flat mate you advertised in Diagon Alley has been filled. I'm female, also 21 and have just undergone relationship complications, so need a place to stay as soon as possible. I can move in later today, if you want. __  
__  
__ Hermione__  
__  
_Hurrying to the Owl Emporium, she attached the note to a regal looking bird, and upon instruction of the address, watched as the bird flew across the sky. Across the city, Blaise Zabini grinned as he scanned his eyes over the familiar looking cursive. "Look Draco," he drawled, "We've got a response to our ad. I told you we would."

The blonde raised an eyebrow quizzically. The advert had been out for a good few months now, and until now, there had been no offers. "Who from?"

"Some chick named Hermione, she's 21."

"Not Hermione Granger?" Draco Malfoy furrowed his brow. He'd be damned if he let that god-awful wench move in with him.

"I don't know mate," Blaise admitted, "There's no second name. But we need to find someone soon," he pressed, "Now that you've been cut off from your inheritance, and Astoria's got the baby on the way, you're going to need someone to split the rent with soon."

"I suppose," the blonde gave a resigned sigh. "Arrange a meeting with her."

So it was set; Zabini set to writing a hurried reply, and the owl managed to find Hermione with ease – for she had not moved from the emporium, entranced by the latest litter of kneazles cats – her own pet, Crookshanks, had recently passed away.

_Hermione,__  
__  
__ No the position has not been filled; would like to meet with you before agreeing to anything. Can you be here in half an hour? If not, I will understand.__  
__  
BZ__  
_

* * *

__Shrugging, Hermione apparated on the spot, taking her to the written address. Knocking on the wooden oak door with heavy brass knocker, her stomach fluttered in anticipation. A bemused Blaise Zabini swung the door open, wearing a loosely unbuttoned shirt and jeans.

"Irritatingly early as always, Granger," he grinned, joking.

"I aim to please," she smiled, stepping through the doorway and slipping off her shoes.

She froze as a certain blonde came to stand in the hallway, a half-sneer lilted with curiosity spread across his face.

"Draco," she greeted courteously. He nodded in acknowledgement.

"Hermione," the mere word alone tasted foreign on his lips. Unfamiliar – unchartered waters. If she was surprised at his use of her first name, she didn't show it, and silently followed Blaise as he made his way into the kitchen, ushering for her to follow.

"Tea? Coffee?" The Italian asked, the hint of a bemused smile on his face.

"Coffee, please, black, no sugar," she asked, smiling as she did so. Of all the people she would have expected to live in Muggle London, Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy wouldn't have even made the list.

"So which one of you lives here?" She asked, curious, as Blaise handed her a steaming brew.

"Well the both of us at the moment," Blaise began, and Draco made his way into the kitchen, only to lean against the granite countertop and survey the bookworm with a pervasive smile. "But I'm moving out soon."

Hermione must have looked curious, for the dark-skinned man continued, "Astoria Greengrass – she was in our year at school, Slytherin," he added, "Is my girlfriend. She's pregnant," he dropped in nonchalantly, "and we're moving in together next week. Draco needs somebody to split the rent with."

"Why?" Hermione asked – genuinely confused, for surely Draco Malfoy wasn't having financial difficulties?

"Do you not read the Daily Prophet?" The blonde asked, his tone laced with annoyance.

"Not really," she supplied, "Why?"

"Draco's been disinherited," Blaise offered up, and the Gryffindor's mouth fell open in shock.

"Why?"

"Well his Father received the Dementor's kiss," Blaise continued, and Hermione noted the look of discomfort on the blonde's face. "His mother blamed him, of course, and for all intents and purposes he's been cut off from the family. Including his inheritance."

There was an awkward silence, for a few moments, until Hermione mumbled, "I'm sorry," genuine sincerity in her voice. She herself knew how hard it was not having parents – for she had been unable to reverse her parent's memory charms, and they were currently on the other side of the world, without the knowledge of even having a daughter.

"Don't be," Draco shrugged, "What's done is done. The question is why do you need a place so suddenly? I'm not harbouring criminals here, you know, Granger. So whatever crime you've committed, confess up," He remarked coolly, and if she wasn't still very much upset over the day's earlier events, she might even have laughed at his joke.

"No," she said sighing, "I walked in on Ron cheating on me with Lavendar Brown earlier today. He owns the house we bought together."

"So sue him," remarked Blaise, and the Gryffindor shook her head. He tutted, shaking his head, "Typical Gryffindor – all your valour and shit. But I'm sorry to hear that, about your loss. Being cheated on is the worst."

"Weasley isn't really a loss, though," smirked Malfoy, not able to help himself. "But fine. You can come live here, we both benefit from it. You get to avoid your sex-crazed ex; I don't get kicked out for being poor. The rent is £500 a month, and we'll agree terms and conditions when you move in. Sound good?"

"Sounds great," Hermione smiled, not believing the funny twist her life had suddenly decided to take.


End file.
